“FLATBUSH AVENUE LOOKING NORTH AT SIXTH AVENUE”
– Ron Medley
https://ronmedley.art/

Sometimes when one looks back at what was in the deeper past speculations become conclusions. This is what it was concerning Richie D. When this writer was six or seven I can remember Richie D. who was a year or two older than me. My family and that of most of my little friends, the Howdy Doody and Davy Crockett followers, lived in two family homes on our street, Dahill Road, Brooklyn NYC. Dahill Road housed working class families, and the lucky ones perhaps would be classified today as Middle Class. Richie D. lived around the corner on Ave P, in an apartment over a store. People who had to live in such accommodations were surely NOT middle class.

The first time I encountered Richie D. was on a sunny June Saturday early afternoon, when just about everyone on Dahill Road was sitting on their stoops or in folding chairs out front of their apartments or homes. Dahill Road was a wide two way street, and crossing it in mid block took some skill. The traffic on a Saturday could be hectic, and the cars seemed to move pretty fast, especially to a young kid like myself. I was playing with my best friend Roy on his stoop, a game we made up called ‘ Stoop baseball’. One kid would be at bat, throw the Spalding up against the stoop and knee crawl around the mini bases before the opponent could catch the ball and tag him before he reached home plate. This was all done at the bottom of Roy’s stoop. For us six year olds this was our Ebbetts Field ( home of the Brooklyn Dodgers). Suddenly, we heard a loud noise! A car had screeched its brakes and the horn blew. We looked up and saw this kid, who was apparently running across Dahill Road, standing like a deer in headlights within inches of the grill of the car. The driver got out and was shouting at the kid, and the kid was shouting back at him. Then the kid scooted off down the street, running like the wind. That was Richie D. A few neighbors lectured Roy and me to ‘ Stay away from that damn kid, he’s no good!’

I never ran into Richie D. at PS 177 which was down the street from us. Either he was in a higher grade or did not even go to school. Occasionally he would show up outside of my house ( we actually rented, the house was owned by our landlord Mr. Pinessi) and wanted to join in with our baseball catches. Richie D. never had his own baseball glove so I would loan him mine. As soon as he saw one of our adult neighbors he would disappear as quickly as he showed up. None of our parents liked him because of his reputation of being wild and unruly. For some reason, perhaps out of my inborn sensitivity ( being raised in a family where yelling and fighting between my mother, father and my paternal grandmother was a way of life) I felt this empathy for the kid. He must of picked up on it because one day he invited me to his birthday party. He didn’t invite Roy or our friend Johnny M…just me. Now I had to ask my mother if it was OK.

” Mom, I feel sorry for Richie. He seems sad Mom. Please let me go.’  She said OK, and made sure I had a nice birthday gift for him. On the afternoon of Richie’s party my mother had me put on a nice shirt and she walked me around the corner to his apartment. She knew it well because he lived on top of John’s Superette where she shopped. She told me to have Richie’s mother call her when I was ready to come home. I rang the bell in the hallway and suddenly Richie ran down the stairs to let me in. As we walked up the stairs I asked him who else was coming. He didn’t answer me. We arrived at his apartment and his little brother was waiting along with Richie’s mother. Her appearance was something I could never forget, even to this day. My mother was much older than her ( she was 35 when she had me). This woman must have had Richie when she was a teenager. She was tall and skinny with as pale a face as one could have. Her hair was jet black and she was dressed in a black dress, the kind a woman wore to  a funeral parlor.  She had this sad smile and thanked me for coming. ‘ Richie has told me all about you, and what a good baseball player you are. Thank you for coming.’ I asked her who else was there or coming to the party. She just put her head down and told me about all the snacks she bought for us. Even as a six year old kid I realized that no one else was coming to this party. I asked Richie if his dad was there and he just solemnly said ‘ My father is away and won’t be back for a long time.’

It is tough for little kids to have a nice time at a party when there is really no one at the party but you, the birthday boy and his little brother and mother. I pretended to have a nice time and just could not  but digest the utter sadness and hopelessness these three were feeding me. When it was time to go home his mother called my mom and thanked me over and over for coming. Richie walked my down the stairs, thanking me for my present. His mother stood at the top of the stairs thanking me as well, as I could not help but feeling the tears that were wetting her eyes.

I really didn’t see Richie D. again because we moved away within a few months. Over the years I always thought about all my little Dahill Road friends, even Richie D. When I went to Brooklyn College I did go back ever so often to see my grandparents who lived on the corner of Dahill and Quentin Road. Roy had moved out of town years before and Johnny still lived there. I ran into him one day and asked about Richie D. ‘ Oh, sad story man. He died recently of an overdose.’ I guess now his mom had reason to wear black.

PA Farruggio
August, 2024